Moondance
by DrWorm
Summary: Just one more Moondance with you, my love? Lance reviews his current situation and gets a visit. Lance/Pietro slash. My version of the "Joyride" aftermath. Rated for language and hints of sexuality.


Notes: Uh… ok. Someone tell me if this makes sense. Please? Right… "Moondance" is currently my favorite song and it is by Van Morrison. It is jazzy and sweet and fun to listen to. And fun to dance to. And fun to _sing_, dammit!

And it wouldn't be a story without a plug from the Shameless Division of Commerce, would it? Hur… "Car Talk" reference. Actually, I just want to announce that I'm trying to pull an Evoslash archive together. Here's the url:

http://www.geocities.com/proftomoe6

What I really need are submissions… and I'll bet everyone reading this has something to contribute. _ Help! Please!

Moondance

Some nights are worse than others, I guess. It's not so bad during the day, when the sun is out and everything's busy. When the sun is out nothing can be hidden… but at night the darkness seeps into everything and distorts it. A look becomes a gaze, an accidental touch becomes a caress… and I feel like my head is going to explode. 

There are times when I wonder what would be worse: not living in the same house as him and never being able to see him and talk to him… or continuing on the way we have been, day after day. No resolution, no denouement. Just… misunderstanding.

_Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance  
With the stars up above in your eyes  
A fantabulous night to make romance  
'Neath the cover of October skies_

I tried to change things. I thought that my 'obsession' was some sort of teenage hormonal thing that'd just change as I grew up. I thought that I was doing the right thing. 

But joining the X-Men didn't help at all. Concentrating solely on Kitty Pryde didn't help at all. I felt so fucking trapped, so confined. Confined in one life when I wanted to lead another. 

But isn't that always how it's been? I never asked to be an orphan; I never asked to be thought of as the 'bad boy'… I _certainly_ never asked to be a mutant.

I never asked to be gay. Gay… it's a funny way to put it, right? Because the word 'gay' used to just mean 'happy', 'cheerful'… you know. Fun stuff. No reference to homosexuality in there, no sir. But now, gay is some sort of dirty word. 'That is so _gay_', 'Quit acting so _gay_' among other things. Gay being synonymous with bad, of course. But then somebody decided that there weren't enough labels in the world, and now we have 'fag', 'queer', 'homo', 'fruit', 'lezzie', 'butch', 'queen', 'femme', et cetera, et cetera to describe those of us with a romantic predilection toward our own gender.

How goddamn depressing is that?

 _And all the leaves on the trees are falling  
To the sound of the breezes that blow  
And I'm trying to please to the calling  
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low_

It's funny… when I deserted the Brotherhood for the X-Men, he was the one who sought _me_ out. Well… they all did, really. But he was right at the front, so _angry _at me. Angry and full of hate. For me. And my first thought was, "Well, finally he's got some sort of feeling for me! What a start, huh?" 

My second thought was, "You asshole. You made a really big mistake. Asshole." 

They all yelled at me, pushed me up against the lockers to make me listen, and told me exactly what they thought of me. Except Pietro. He just stood there, said one or two things very calmly. And when I blew them off, when I told them to stay the hell out of my life, when they all stalked off, grumbling about 'crummy Lance', he was the last to leave. He looked past me, over my right shoulder. He was blinking a lot and his eyes seemed brighter than usual.

He sniffed, and snarled, and whispered, "I hate you so much." Then he turned sharply on his heels and left. Didn't look back.

_And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush  
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush _

I decided to go back to the Brotherhood for a lot of reasons. I didn't fit in with the X-men, for one… and I was of the startling suspicion that they didn't think too highly of me, either. I didn't like the constant supervision; I loathed the constant training. About half of them had seen me puke in the X-Jet, and for some reason I feel acutely embarrassed whenever my mind dredges up that particular memory. 

But most of all, it was because of Kitty. It was because I'd been trying for so long just to like her and impress her and have her like me. Suddenly… there she was! Signed, sealed, and delivered; here's the chick you've been lusting after for months, you loser!

I didn't want her. Not at all. Well… not entirely true. I wanted her as a friend, as an ally. She's not so bad… not nearly as stuffy and stuck-up as some of those other geeks. Nice kid.

But I couldn't bring myself to think about kissing her, holding her hand, or- god forbid- making love with her. It was too weird. It felt too… wrong.

There's no other way for me to explain it, besides saying that it was the kind of gut feeling that's too damn hard to put into words. 

And the hardest part about it, about all of it, was that it wasn't just Kitty. It was every girl. Jean 'Nice Tits' Grey could have walked past me naked and I doubt I would have turned my head. Because women's bodies just didn't do it for me anymore. 

Suddenly, Scott Summers' ass was a hell of a lot more interesting. 

Funny thing is, this was not a new realization. I think my first crush was on that Disney cartoon version of Robin Hood. The one where he was a fox? Heh… yeah, you remember. Totally obsessed at about five years old. But it wasn't exactly normal, was it? I knew it and I always told everyone Maid Marian was my favorite.

I'm such a big fuckin' liar.

_Can I just have one a' more Moondance with you, my love  
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love _

The Brotherhood took me back, thank god, after I can back on my hands and knees. I whined, I pleaded, I groveled… and they actually let me back in without much protest. Todd and Tabby hugged me, kinda reluctantly at first, but soon they were warming up and telling me what their week had been like and asking me all sorts of questions about how the mansion had been, how snooty the Geeks had acted, and so on. Fred gave me a grudging handshake after he made me promise never to leave again. 

Pietro hung around toward the back, not saying anything but not taking his eyes off of our little reunion. Finally, curiosity got the best of me and I asked if it was ok with him. Would he take me back?

"Sure," he'd croaked. "Sure, great, fine. GoodtohaveyoubackLance… good night." And he ran up to his room at top speed. 

I felt like an utter shit. But still, at the same time. I couldn't understand why he'd taken it so horribly personally. I mean, Jesus, I'd come back for _him_, all for _him_! 'Course, he didn't know that, but when I saw his reaction I was ready to tell him. 

Tabby had shrugged it off as random Pietro-pissyness and Freddy hurried to agree with her. But Todd had given me a look that quite plainly said, "Hey, you big dumbass, go up there and apologize because he's definitely going to hold this against you. Yo."

I didn't. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was afraid that if I tried to talk to Pietro alone, I'd end up blurting everything out. And even though a tiny part of me wanted desperately to tell him, my common sense had overtaken me. Just telling him would just make everything worse, I'd reasoned. Besides, I was afraid that if I told him he'd just hate me even more.

Actually, I'm still kind of afraid of that.

_Well, I wanna make love to you tonight  
I can't wait 'til the morning has come  
And I know that the time is just right  
And straight into my arms you will run_

I think that's why I've taken to spending my evenings sitting on the roof, staring at the stars, and chain-smoking until I can barely breathe.

Yeah, yeah… smoking equals dirty habit equals lung cancer equals DEATH. I'd been trying to quit for the good of the whole household, but after the X-Men ordeal the need had returned with a vengeance. There's something stupid and slightly comforting in smoke; the smell of it, the feel of it in your lungs reminds me of… something. Something I hate thinking about, but enjoy remembering. 

Getting onto the roof isn't hard at all. The window in my room leads directly onto a little expanse of a flat ledge. No problems climbing out and none getting back in. It's the perfect place to sit and think and stare up at the night sky. Full moons are especially pretty… like tonight. The moon looks great, huh? 

I really wish I could share it with him. The light is the same silvery-white as his hair. 

_And when you come my heart will be waiting  
To make sure that you're never alone  
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear  
There and then I will make you my own_

Yeah… I think I'm gonna get down now. It's a school day tomorrow, and I still have homework. Schedule's just jam-packed, y'know? School, homework, fruitless sessions of masturbation late at night… 

So much to do, so little time to do it in.

Sometimes I wonder… why him? He's completely vain and full of himself, he's annoying, he's loud, he's obnoxious, he's quirky, he's not dependable in any way…

But then I'm a complete and utter bastard who can't make up his mind, who can't kick a simple smoking habit, who can't admit to anything, who lacks any courage and conviction. 

In matters of the heart, the head cannot be involved. Or something like that. Besides, bastards deserve bastards, which I think is a more widely accepted epitaph.

And because he's not as confident as he'd have everyone believe. Because underneath it all he's just as scared and vulnerable as any other person. Because we all share the same hopes and dreams of just getting through the goddammed day. Because we all want to have fun, we all want to have lives, we all want to be respected. And loved. 

Especially loved. 

_And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside  
And I know how much you want me that you can't hide _

 I stamp out my last cigarette butt of the evening and hop back into my room via the window. Funny thing is that Pietro is standing right there, looking over the posters and junk that's coating my walls. Waiting for me.

Before I can say anything, he wrinkles his nose. "You've been smoking."

"Yup." I give him a cool smile. He narrows his eyes at me.

"What were you doing on the roof?" 

I shrug. "It's nice out there. You can get a good view of the moon." For no reason whatsoever, I find myself gesturing toward the window. "You wanna see?"

He gives me a look somewhere between surprise and distrust. I can't say I blame him, but it still makes me sad. "Yeah…" he replies after a moment of thought. "Ok."

Before I can do or say anything, he's already out the window and arranging himself on the ledge. I follow, albeit more slowly. "Nice, huh?" I say, feeling supremely self-conscious as I sit myself next to him. 

"Hmmm." He's busy staring up, drinking in the sky. I'm busy tracing the curves of his chin and neck with my eyes.  

Suddenly, I feel my lips moving without my permission, my teeth and tongue forming words that I didn't recall thinking about saying. Not here, not now. "I love you."

"Really?" He says, his tone bored and blasé. "That's nice." He tilts his head to look at me. "I love you, too."

I'm very confused. "Are… are you making fun of me?"

"No," he sighs and shifts his gaze to his hands. "I really wish I was."

"Then why-?"

"Lance, you were meant to have a normal life." He glances up at me and his eyes are sad. Sad but firm. "I really believe that. And I think that, whatever you do and wherever you go, I'm not going to be a part of it." He dipped his head down against his chest. "I'mreallyreallysorryLance."

He started to rise to a crouch to go back through the window, but I caught him by the wrist. "Wait," I said, feeling more than a little desperate. "Wait… please?"

"No," he gave another sigh, but it was much more unstable. I took his break in resolve as an opportunity.

"Look at the moon."

"What?" He seems a little taken aback by my command. I give a little nod up to the sky.

"Look." He does so, looks up and away from me. And, because he doesn't suspect it, because the opportunity is right there, I let go of his wrist and kiss him. Just gently, just barely brushing his lips with my own. He gasps and shudders; I hope it is with happiness or pleasure. 

And then in an instant he is gone. Probably back in his room within the barest second. I'm left with nothing more than a memory, a ghost of an idea, and the moon.

The evenings… they're always the worst.

_One more Moondance with you in the moonlight   
Can't I just have one more dance with you my love _


End file.
